


One Shots!

by WildfireKhaleesi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, Reader Insert, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, mcu - Freeform, one shots, oneshots, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildfireKhaleesi/pseuds/WildfireKhaleesi
Summary: I take requests! Just leave them in the comments below! xxxx





	1. Stuffy Noses (Sam Winchester x Reader)

You woke up in your heap of blankets, nose finally not running and your throat not scratchy. The migraine you had last night long gone. With a smile you stretched your arms and thanked Castiel silently for poofing you aspirin the night before.   
The past six months of your life might have been the greatest. Hunting monsters, eating at shitty local diners, bickering back and forth with Dean, and late researching with Sam had kept you blissfully preoccupied. Sometimes you were in a happy enough mood to wake up early with Sam and go jogging.  
Even when you all had arrived back at the bunker bloody, bruised, and running on no sleep, you’d donn a smile. You’d assumed it had to do with the simplicity of what you were doing. You didn’t face the constant distractions of social media, social life in general, family, or paychecks.   
All you had to do was save lives, and gank the sons of bitches (as Dean had put it so many times) who threatened the innocent.  
You were content with the life you had built with your two hunting partners. You’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm and you wouldn’t change it for the world. The only complication you faced was your crush on the younger Winchester. You’d been infatuated with him over the past two months. The first few weeks you were hell bent on letting it run its course. You figured it couldn’t last that long, right?  
You knew you were wrong when a month and some odd days later, you still got giddy whenever the long haired and hazel eyed giant was around. Luckily for you, he seemed completely clueless.   
Dean on the other hand had caught on almost immediately, sensing the shift in your body language and speech whenever Sam was around. Hell, Dean had even tried to help give you a nudge in the right direction. He’d leave for “bar nights” and come back the next morning, fingers cross in hoping that you and Sam had finally hit it off. Sadly, that hadn’t been the case yet.  
You gently swung your legs over your bed, shivering when the pads of your feet met the cold floor below. You grabbed a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks from your dresser and quickly put them on, following them with a change from cotton shorts to large sweatpants and Sam’s baggy Stanford shirt he had given you on your birthday.   
Making your way into the bunker’s hall and down towards the kitchen, you were careful not to wake a deep sleeping Dean. The man was not pleasant when woken by something other than the smell of food.  
You were inches away from the kitchen when a huge sneeze echoed through the hallway, followed by a fit of small coughs and a groan. Turning, you noticed that Sam’s door was cracked open. You frowned to yourself before tiptoeing over and gently tapping on the wooden door.  
“Sammy? You ok?” You whispered, peering your head through.  
“Y/N, hey.” He groaned back, hair a tousled mess and face looking flushed and swollen. His pillows and blanket were strewn about and he had almost a garbage can full of used tissues next to his nightstand.   
“Geeze, Sammy. You’re not looking too hot.”   
“And here I was thinking I’d get on the top 100…” He smirked, stopping to sneeze and glare at you. “You got me sick.”   
“Okay, first off, don’t blame me. Blame germs and yourself for accidentally sipping off my drink.” You glared back, tapping your foot impatiently. “However, since I’m amazing and generally a great friend, I’ll make you some soup. How does that sound?”   
“That sounds good. I haven’t eaten since we got home yesterday afternoon, and it’s what?” He turned his head to look at the clock on his nightstand, red numbers showing that it was 10 A.M. “Shit, I missed my workout.” He whined, resting his head back against his pillow before scrunching his face up.  
“Your workout can wait until you’re better, Hercules. Don’t move around too much either, that’ll only make it worse. I’ll be right back.” You told him, spinning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen.   
You pulled out the metal kettle you had brought with you when you had first moved into the bunker, a nice heirloom from your mother who had long since passed. Grief ebbed at you while you filled it halfway up with water and set it on the stove, turning it on and waiting for it to boil.  
Then you pulled a can of chicken noodle soup from a cupboard, using the automatic can-opener to speed up the process, and then setting it in the microwave.   
The dull hum of the microwave had almost soothed you back to sleep as you sat the small wooden kitchen table. The sudden DING waking you up right as the kettle started to scream. Picking out two chamomile packets and two small mugs you smiled to yourself, thinking about how messy Sam’s hair had been and just how cute he was with the sick tinge on his cheeks.   
You stirred the teas and then prepared the soup, grabbing a muffin from the pantry before heading back to Sam’s room.   
He was asleep when you walked back in, mouth open and steady breaths rising and falling from his chest. You set the teas and the soup on the nightstand opposite of his side of the bed and gently sat next to him, scared to wake him up, but knowing you’d have to so he could get food in his system.   
You slowly ran your hand through his hair, feeling his fever on his scalp and knowing how miserable he had to be feeling.   
“Sammy, wake up. I have your food.” You whispered.  
“Huh? Shit, sorry. I fell back asleep.” He sped out, rushing to sit up. You stopped him short, helping him instead sit up slowly.  
“You’re going to give yourself whiplash.” You chided, setting up his pillows so he could lean against them.   
“Thanks, Y/N.” He whispered, coughing and holding his head.   
“Least I can do for getting you sick.” You winked, grabbing his soup and holding out a bite on the spoon for him. “Open up.”   
“There’s no way I’m letting you feed me.” Sam argued.  
“Sam, you can hardly sit up on your own. Just let me feed you.” You responded, gently putting the spoon in his mouth when he opened it. He hummed at the taste and swallowed it down gratefully, smiling warmly at you as you got another spoon full.  
It only took him ten minutes to eat all of it, and by the end you were red as a cherry, reveling in the small sounds he made whenever he tasted the soup. Sam was red too, and you couldn’t tell whether it still was because he was sick.  
Handing him his tea and then grabbing your own, you turned his t.v on, setting up the blu ray and starting a random season of Game of Thrones. The two of you had watched it together near religiously. In a way it had become your thing.   
About halfway through the first episode and Sam had fallen asleep again, earning a smile from you. You made to get up and take out the dishes in his room when the third episode started, but right as you shifted, Sam did the same, his head falling into your lap and his arms wrapping around your torso instinctively. You stiffened, watching his broad chest rise and fall again, mesmerized by the large expanse of toned skin, and just now realising that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Only sweats. You’d seen Sam shirtless before, but this seemed different.   
He looked so peaceful and completely vulnerable. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, and you swore it was about to break through the bones. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t just a crush.   
Without thinking you absentmindedly starting running your fingers through his long hair again, all your senses overwhelmed with Sam. You didn’t see him open his eyes, but when you felt him tense up, your breath caught in your throat. Your hand stopped in its tracks as you waited for him to pull away and ask you to leave.   
But instead his body relaxed again, and he squeezed you closer.   
“Keep doing that, feels good.” He murmured, grabbing your free hand and holding on to it. You exhaled slowly before continuing to run your hand through his hair, a newfound courage soothing you.   
“I was trying to get up and put the dishes away and you just flopped over and laid in my lap.” You whispered, watching Tyrion Lannister on trial on the television screen.   
“M’sorry.” He whispered, kissing your hand. “You okay with this?” He asked, hazel eyes meeting yours, full of anticipation, concern and a little hazed from being sick.   
“Yeah. More than okay.” You whispered back, grinning down at him.   
“Good, because I don’t want to move. At all.” He smiled. You took your hand from his hair and let it run across his cheek and jaw as he looked up at you, his eyes closing at the contact.   
You caught yourself leaning in right as Sam did, and he turned his head to avoid contact.   
“No, Y/N, m’sick.” He groaned, looking back at you.  
“I’ve already had it, Sammy. Anyways, I wasn’t going for your lips.” You told him, leaning back down and pecking the tip of his nose.   
He looked confused for a minute before a big toothy grin broke across his face.   
“Again.” He whispered, eyes sparkling.   
You leaned down and pressed another small kiss to his nose, giggling at happy he looked.   
“One more.” He asked, his smile growing smaller.   
You leaned down again, aiming for his nose, but Sam had something different in mind. He moved his head up and pressed his lips right against yours. You felt yourself go lightheaded while you processed what was happening, and then you were giggling against his lips, his lighter giggles echoing yours.   
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He told you, squeezing your hand.   
“Trust me, so have I.” You smiled, running your thumb along his jaw.   
“Y’know, I think that since you got me sick you should probably just take care of me until I’m better.” He told you, smirking.  
“Hm, not a bad idea Sammy.” You replied, sticking your tongue out at him and pressing your lips against his again.


	2. A Little Bird Told Me (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has never warmed up to you. His cold demeanor is unwarranted. Nat and Bucky find a way to shove you and Steve in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL SMUTTY SMUT AHEAD. 18+ PLS

Joining the Avengers was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Finally you felt like you actually belonged somewhere.   
You remember the rush of adrenaline you got when Nat and Wanda approached you, telling you they’d seen your little tricks on the news. Your abilities were getting you publicity, you knew that much, but you didn’t think the fucking Avengers knew who you were! You were flabbergasted when they told you how spectacular they thought you were.   
“Oh, you’d be perfect for the team! That’s why Tony and Cap sent us.” Wanda had told you.   
“Yeah, it isn’t everyday we meet someone who can materialize things out of thin fucking air.” Nat added, swinging an arm around you. “So, what do you say? You’d get your own room in Tony’s tower. It’s pretty damn nice.”   
You’d of course said yes, glad that you’d be able to work alongside people who held the same passion for saving humanity and living things in general.   
The first few months of you living there were great. You’d bonded with Nat, Wanda, Bucky and Tony the most. You’d tried on multiple occasions to talk to Steve Rogers himself, but unless you were on a mission he was very stand offish. He either didn’t have time to enlighten your social personality, or he’d give you a half-assed conversation and then leave to who the hell knows where.   
Honestly it was starting to piss you off. You’d asked yourself multiple times if something were wrong with you. He was Captain America for God’s sake! He was nice to everyone. There had to be a reason why he was so cold with you.   
Nat had comforted your drunken heart ache multiple times, listening to your incessant and gibberish babbling before telling you that no, it wasn’t your fault. He’s just an ass sometimes, she’d told you.   
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wrong. It had to be something you’d done.   
Soon you were eight months in, completely in sync with all of the Avengers aside from Steve. Everyone loved your company, especially Barnes, who aside from you or Steve usually hated company.   
You sat with Bucky now, watching some stupid show on Netflix that he had put on to pass time.   
“I just don’t get him,” you explained, “it’s like he hates me but I’ve hardly ever had a one-on-one fucking conversation with the man.”   
“Steve’s complicated, doll. The only way you’ll ever understand what’s going on in that head of his is if, 1. You’re his best friend, or, 2. He tells you.” Bucky reassured you, pulling you against his side and hugging you with his vibranium arm; cool against your warm skin.   
“It’s just stupid. We’re adults. I’ve tried talking to him so many damned times.” You thought to yourself for a second. “Hey, wait, you’re his best friend, Barnes, why do you think he’s so distant with me?”   
“You really want to know what I think?”   
“That’s kind of why I asked.” You snapped.   
“Alright, alright, calm down, kitten.” He furrowed his brows, collecting his thoughts. “I think, and this is just a hunch that I’ve had for a while now, but I think Steve may be a little frustrated.”   
“I’ve never done anything to piss him off, Buck. You know that.”   
“Not the kind of frustration I meant, doll.”   
You scrunched your face in confusion, taking a second to mull over Bucky’s words before they finally hit you like a fucking airplane.  
“Let me get this straight… You actually- you think that Steve ignores my existence because the man wants to fuck me?!”   
“I didn’t use that wording. But, uhm...yes?” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, I’ve seen the small glances he shoots your way on a mission when you’re not looking. The guy’s mesmerized by you. Has been since the first day you got here. I think he’s scared to own up to the fact.”   
“Steve shoots steamy looks my way when I’m not looking? And you’ve never told me?!” You shoved at his vibranium arm, not shocked when he didn’t budge an inch. Standing up from the large sofa, you paced the room, rubbing your temples.  
“Well it’s not my job to tell you how Steve looks at you! Honestly I thought you two were messin’ around when all of us weren’t looking. Thought maybe his fuckin’ weird behavior was so that we wouldn’t suspect it or something.”  
“Well it isn’t, Buck.”   
He shrugged at you, “why don’t you-”  
“I swear whatever you’re about to suggest will warrant a punch to the jaw, Barnes.”  
“Okay, nevermind then. What if-”  
“Bucky…” You warned.  
“No, no! Hear me out. What if we make him jealous? Tony’s having one of his insane parties tomorrow.”  
“Why would we need to make him jealous?”   
“Well, because you like him, of course.” Bucky stated, motioning towards you, eyes widening when he realized what he’d said.  
“How did you- Oh my god, I’m going to kill Nat.”   
“C’mon, she was just trying to help you out, Y/N.” You glared at him. “Don’t tattle on me, okay? She’ll kick my ass.”   
“Fine.” You sat back down next to Bucky on the sofa, a new fire growing in you when you realized that if Steve had been sending looks your way, maybe just maybe you had a chance. “Hey, why don’t you tell me more about your stupid jealousy plan.”   
Bucky’s smile grew, “Alright, so…” 

“I hate Barnes.” You grumbled, zipping up the tight-hugging navy blue bodycon dress. The fabric was quite literally skin tight, accentuating every curve you had. It showed a very charitable amount of cleavage, and you had to admit, your ass looked damned AMAZING in it.   
“Oh, hush. He’s willing to help you out.” Nat told you, turning you around and sitting you in her makeup chair. “Now stay still.”  
You tried your best to not move an inch, feeling her work her magic on you. The minutes ticked by, and soon Wanda entered the room with your guys’s shoes.   
“You’re going to break your neck in these, Y/N.” She told you, pulling out your matte red pumps.   
“Nah, I’ve got this! I’m a professional.” You joked.  
“I said stay still.” Nat snapped, flicking your nose.   
“Ow.”   
You managed to not move for the remainder of the time, jaw dropping when Nat revealed her work.   
“Wow, I look…”  
“Hot?” Nat suggested.  
“Fucking gorgeous?” Wanda added, playfully shoving your arm.   
Nat was a magician, you were sure of it. She had managed to give you the best smokey eye you’d ever seen, winged eyeliner complementing the smoky shades perfectly. She’d finished the look with matte red lips, near the same color as your pumps.  
“Just, wow. Thank you!” You hugged your best friend close, only letting go when Wanda started messing with your hair.   
“I’m thinking a messy bun would look good.” She told you and Nat, already working on it.   
“Well, while you finish getting her ready, I might as well go get myself ready. I’ll be back in a jiff.” Nat said, leaving the room.   
“So, are you nervous?” Wanda asked you, shoving bobby pins into your hair.   
“Yes would be an understatement.” You answered, “I don’t even know if it’ll work.”   
“Well I think it will. So does Nat.” She reassured you, tugging loose a few strands of hair, “and voila! You’re done.”   
You hardly recognized yourself in the mirror. You never were one to wear makeup and dress up. The only time you put an effort into your appearance was when you wore your super suit; and that was just black and blue latex.   
Seeing yourself like this made you want to dress up way more.  
You buckled on your pumps, standing and doing a 360 for Wanda.   
“Ow-ow! You’re one hot mama!” Nat chirped, stepping back into the room.   
“Thank you, but look at you and Wanda! You guys look fucking amazing!” You grinned. They did look good, Wanda in a tight purple cocktail dress and Nat in her little black dress.   
“Now let’s go get drunk and wait for Barnes.” Nat smiled, looping her arms through yours and Wanda’s and setting off for Tony’s floor.  
It was LOUD when you arrived. Guests flooded his floor, music blaring from the surround speakers. Nat led the two of you immediately towards the bar, ordering 3 shots of tequila each for the three of you.  
“You’re going to get me shit faced.” You grumbled, downing the first gulp of fiery liquor.   
“That’s the plan, doll!” Bucky roared, grabbing onto your waist and kissing your temple as the rest of the Avengers piled in.   
You felt all of their eyes on you; Sam, Scott, T’Challa, Peter, Tony, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and then Steve.  
His eyes completely iced over when he spotted Bucky’s hands on your sides, and you were shocked that it was already working.  
“Woah, Y/N! You look- Wow!” Scott shouted over the music, eyes bulging at your defined body.   
If it weren’t for the buzz of the alcohol in your system, you probably would have shied away from the unusual amount of attention you were receiving, but instead you basked in it.  
“Thanks Scott! You clean up well, too.” You motioned towards the black suit he wore, and the maroon tie.   
Come to think of it, all of the men cleaned up well. But your eyes stuck on Steve. His long legs were in dark blue jeans, his beyond muscular arms in a tight blue crew neck; a white tee underneath. You saw his adams apple bob and you looked up into his eyes, noticing he was still staring at you. And Bucky.  
“Well, doll, what d’ya say we take some more shots?” Bucky winked, squeezing your hips and winking at you.  
“Let’s do it!” You shouted, turning towards the counter again and ordering everyone shots. Steve refused his, instead settling for whiskey, clean. He even went as far as to sit away from everyone.  
This was your chance.   
You disentangled yourself from Bucky, making to move past him.  
“Go get him, tiger.” Buck whispered to you, shoving you towards a clearly angered Steve.  
Newfound confidence bubbled inside of you, and soon you were sitting next to the gorgeous and intimidating man.   
“Why’re you over here all alone and brooding?” You asked, sipping off of the cocktail you now held.  
“No reason. Why aren’t you over there with Bucky? You two seem pretty friendly.” He grumbled, shooting a glare at his best friend across the bar.  
“Just wanted a break from everyone. Wanted to talk to you.”   
“Why?”   
“Well, you see Steve. I, for whatever fucking reason, actually like your company. I admire you. I enjoy being around you.” You laughed, “even if you’re a dick to me.”  
“After how I’ve treated you, you enjoy being around me?” He asked incredulously, scooting closer towards you.   
“It’s an enigma, I know.” You mumbled, leaning against his arm. He tensed at your touch, but didn’t move away from you.   
“But don’t you like Buck?” He asked, motioning towards his friend who was now talking to some random girl.   
“Me? Like Bucky? Please.” You laughed.  
“So, what? That all was to get me jealous?” He asked.  
You looked up at him, seeing him biting his lip hard as he looked down at you.  
“Depends, did it work?” You asked him, watching his glance go from your face to your cleavage, to your thighs.   
“Did it work?” He mimicked you, relaxing, “Of course it worked. Why else would I be over here all alone and what did you say? Brooding?”   
You felt his hand snake down your back and around your waist, gliding down to your left thigh and squeezing. You let out a gasp, feeling wetness pool in your panties. Steve’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at your reaction. “What, you like it rough?” He whispered, experimentally squeezing again.   
Your hand shot down, encasing his own and holding his grasp, a small moan dancing out of your mouth.   
“Holy shit.” Steve groaned, standing up quickly and towing you in hand.   
“Where are we going?” You asked, mind hazy as he led you into the elevator.   
“Either my room or yours. I don’t care.” He growled, cornering you in the elevator. “Which is it going to be, sweetheart?”   
“Yours.” You whispered, immediately he crashed his lips against yours, all desperation and teeth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard him press a button. You met him with your own fierceness, an overwhelming need taking over you as you tasted him on your tongue. He tasted like expensive whiskey and vanilla, you noted, growling in satisfaction.   
He smiled against you, biting your bottom lip and picking you up when the elevator opened. He fumbled with the doorknob for a bit, not taking his lips off of yours once after you got off the elevator. If he hadn’t stopped kissing you to toss you onto his bed, you probably would have passed out from lack of oxygen.   
You watched him take off his shirts with ease, biting your lip in impatience. Fuck, he was hot. All muscle and tanned skin, leaving everything and nothing to the imagination at the same time.  
“Take off your dress,” he said, palming himself through his jeans as he kicked off his boots. “Now.” He growled.   
You complied, standing on his bed and slowly unzipping the piece of clothing. You watched his jaw drop when your tits bounced free. You made a mental note to thank Nat in the future for advising you not to wear a bra. He let out a choked gasp when he saw your panties, boy-cut, completely lace, and pure white.   
“Fuck.” He moaned out, eyes lust blown and pants tightening around his cock. You tossed the dress to the floor and laid back out on the bed, moving to take off your pumps.  
“Don’t-” He snapped out, grabbing your wrist. “Keep them on.”   
You blushed, his grasp shooting heat to your core as you tried to contain your excitement.   
“Yes, Captain.” You whispered.   
He looked like he was going to explode, obviously pleased by your choice of nickname.   
He actually broke the buckle on his belt, yanking the annoying leather from his pants and then stripping to nothing completely.   
Your breath hitched when you saw his cock. Not only was he graced with length, but also girth. You swallowed dryly, willing for him to do something.   
“Scoot over.” He ordered. Once you had, he laid flat on his back beside you. He tapped his upper chest, signaling for you to straddle him. You did. He grabbed either asscheek, pulling you until you were hovering over his face, and oh god, were you ready for what was going to happen?  
He didn’t give you time to answer yourself, he gently shoved your calves down until they rested on his biceps; red pumps laying against large muscle. And then he fucking tore your panties off of you.   
“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He whispered out, “So fucking wet for me already.”  
You squirmed and his hands held your ankles.   
“Don’t move.” He warned you.   
You felt his breath hot against your entrance, and if you didn’t get any relief soon you were going to fucking vaporize.   
And then out of nowhere he was licking a stripe along your wet heat and you were moaning out, louder than you’d ever been with anyone else and this was only the fucking beginning. You were suddenly very thankful for the loud music playing 8 floors down.   
“Fuck, Steve.” You whimpered, grinding down on his face when he sucked gently on your clit.   
“I know, doll.” He whispered against your wet pussy huskily.  
You licked your hand, dribbling out spit before reaching back and taking him into your hand, working slowly down the length of his hard cock before working your way back up; following the strokes of his tongue.   
“Fuck yes, Steve.” You cried out, working your hand faster as his tongue picked up its pace.   
He shot up, holding you against himself and pinning you down on the bed below him now, calves now resting on his shoulders. You’d let go of his cock, shocked at the sudden change of position.   
“I don’t want to cum yet.” He told you, voice vibrating against your aching pussy. “Touch yourself.” He ordered.   
Never one to disobey him, you did as you were told, one hand pinching a sensitive nipple and the other working quick circles around your desperate clit as Steve continued to tongue fuck you.   
You felt your orgasm building, threatening to snap at any second.   
“Cum for me, doll.” He growled against you, somehow managing to work his tongue faster.   
Your orgasm finally erupted, pleasure shooting through every nerve ending you had. You screamed out, gripping the sheets as Steve licked up your cum, his tongue following an invisible line up your stomach before meeting your neck. He bit down, gently and then harder.   
“Steve, I need-”  
“What? What do you need Y/N?” He cooed, nipping your ear and squeezing your thigh.  
“Need you to fuck me.” You cried out, grinding down against his painfully hard erection.   
“Shit,” He hissed, pinning you down by your wrists. “How do you want it?”   
His blue eyes looked genuinely interested in what you wanted, and your heart sped up at the thought of Steve wanting you to feel pleased before himself.   
“I like it when I’m on my hands and knees.” You told him, nipping his neck and chin.   
He flipped you easily onto your stomach, working himself with his hand while he waited for you to position yourself. You felt him slowly rock his tip inside of you, easing half of himself in slowly. Your heart might have swelled as you realized how gentle he was trying to be, but you wanted him, and you wanted him now. You rocked yourself back, taking all of him inside you and adjusting to his large size.   
“You feel amazing,” he whispered against your neck. “Love how you feel around me, doll.”   
“Fuck me, Steve,” you pleaded, tightening yourself around him.  
He didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled himself out and then slammed himself back into you, grunting at the pleasure he felt. You were moaning with him, feeling his tip and then part of his shaft rub against your g-spot with each sinful thrust.   
You felt his hips stutter against your ass and knew he was close. As if on cue, he reached down, thumbing your clit as he fucked himself into you. You let out a slew of expletives, rocking yourself back against him so you could cum with him.   
His cock twitched inside of you, and then you felt the warmth of his cum release inside of you. He gave your clit five last rubs and then you were cumming against his still twitching cock, warmth and Steve filling all of your senses.   
He pulled himself out, collapsing in a heap of loose limbs beside you before pulling you against his chest.   
“How’d you know?” He asked breathlessly.  
“Know what?” You panted out.  
“That I wanted that.” He laughed.  
“A little bird told me.” You smiled, kissing him deeply before turning and falling asleep next to him.


End file.
